


Taking Control

by KassieProphet



Series: Ghost Prompts [36]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Cages, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Female Character, Sensation Play, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet
Summary: Tumblr Prompts:I'm curious to see Papa III and Copia (respectively) with a dominant or switchy s/o who usually prefers to be the one in control.
Relationships: Aether | Quintessence Ghoul/Cardinal Copia, Aether | Quintessence Ghoul/Reader, Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Series: Ghost Prompts [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536134
Comments: 28
Kudos: 20





	Taking Control

**Papa III** : 

This is a man who loves to play. Is there a kink he met and didn’t like? Dom, sub … doesn’t matter to him as long as everyone feels good. If you want to Domme him, he’ll be there kneeling at your feet before you even finish the request. Hard impact play or humiliation don’t really get him off—but he’ll play if that’s your thing. What he’s into most is sensation play … he wants to get lost into what you’re doling out and wants to feel loved and cared for.

He’s usually a good boy, and you have great fun giving him his rewards for following your rules (an over-the-knee hand spanking for good behavior and a wooden spoon for bad).

You have him in his own sumptuous bed—nude—restrained with silk ties looped through the rings set into the posters of his bed. He’s blindfolded, and you’ve placed noise-cancelling headphones on his ears. It’s the honor system, but you’d instructed him not to touch himself for a week—and from what you see of his purpling dick, you think he’s kept up his end, so he deserves his rewards.

For the first hour or two, all you’ve done is make sure his dick stays hard—something you accomplish with light touches of a slick finger up & down the vein of his cock and a quick swirl of your tongue along the ridge of his cockhead—as you read your book in one of his decadent armchairs.

To his credit, Papa III isn’t whining, even if every so often he’s testing his bonds and thrusting up into nothing.

When you finally start, it’s with his special wax. Deeming it ok after testing it on your hand, you begin to drip it onto him: first his chest (to which he gasps), then his nipples (he twitches), and then—after dribbling it down his sides and thighs—a quick drip onto his cock (he jerks violently).

You then go about getting your nails under each cooled pool of wax before ripping it off.

“Ai,  _ cara _ !” Papa III cries out.

You give a sharp smack to his flank.

“Err,  _ Mistress _ .” He corrects himself.

When you yank the wax off his cock, he squeals. 

The man has range.

Next, you take an ice cube, and run it over all the places where the wax had touched. He’s jerking and gasping—even letting out a nervous giggle when you run the ice up and down his cock. You make sure to apply the cube to all sides of his cock, and then in a circle around the tip; when you’re satisfied, you lean down and envelope his cock from tip to root briefly with your mouth before popping off. 

Papa III jerks after your mouth and whines.

You give him a lighter smack—you’re not accepting bratty behavior today.

The feather is just unfair—you know how ticklish he is. You run it up and down the insides of his thighs and over his balls; you trail it along his sides and around his neck.

“ _ Ah _ ! Ca—er,  _ Mistress _ ! Mistress,  _ please _ ,” he giggles.

You don’t stop until his little pot belly is jiggling and he’s wheezing.

Assessing the toys you have left, you pick up the switch and whip it through the air a few times to test its supple give.

Since this is just for sensation, you make sure not to whack him too hard. You do a shallow stripe over his nipples and he jerks, making a wounded noise—but you bend down and ease the sting with your tongue. When the tension bleeds out of him, you run the tip lightly down the center of his chest to his belly button before raising it. He locks up, so you wait—watching his chest heave in shallow pants—until he relaxes back into the bed. And that’s when you give a tiny slap—almost just a kiss—to his dick.

Papa III lets out a howl that morphs into a moan as you rub your warm palm over his shaft. You raise the switch up again, and he must feel the change in the air, because he jerks away—so you just lightly bring it down to rest on his thighs, making him flinch hard.

“ _ Ai _ ,” he moans in relief.

But then you flick your wrist hard, striping the tops of his thighs anyway, and he gasps at the sudden sting. You laugh even though you know he can’t hear you.

At this point, Papa III is flushed—his chest red and splotchy—and he’s shiny with perspiration. His cock is still hard and flushed, dripping precum that’s pooling in sticky strings on his belly.

You procure a vibrating wand from your arsenal, turning it on and first touching it to his one nipple and then the other. He’s moaning and writhing as you switch up the touch enough for each application to be effective.

His dick is kicking as if it has a mind of its own, so you bring the wand down to give it some much-needed attention. Papa III gasps and jerks and twitches as you run the wand down his cock, around his balls, and back up his cock to press into his sweet spot.

“Oh!  _ Please _ ! Please, Mistress …  _ Please _ !”

You wait until his breaths are cutting off in his throat until you take the toy away. He whines, thrusting up after the vibrator.

Another smack.

He relaxes, even as he’s gulping, sweat now dripping down his face.

Before you tied him up, you’d checked to see if he’d worn your gift—a bluetooth controlled, vibrating butt plug. Now, you take up your phone so that you can play with the setting.

At the first buzz, Papa III lets out an  _ Ah _ as his back arches off the bed … then he starts wiggling in time. Smiling, you change the setting from a solid vibration to pulsing bursts. Papa III twitches, pulling a little at his restraints.

Setting the vibration now to 3 short bursts and then 1 long one, you finally crawl onto the bed with him. You straddle his pelvis, running your hands up and down his slick sides. He’s all at once jerking away from the pulses, but trying to lean into your touch.

Licking your lips, you lube up his cock—him letting out a stuttering grunt—before sinking yourself down on him. He knows your rules, so he  _ just _ manages not to thrust up sharply into you … but it’s a close thing.

You press down on his hips as you adjust—a silent command for him to hold still—before you start swiveling your hips in figures 8s and pressing your clit into his curls.

He’s mewling, his head thrashing back and forth as you slowly use his cock for your pleasure. He knows full well there will be a strict punishment if he cums out of turn. This is his reward, but he’s still your pet, and you still own his orgasms.

You begin to bounce a little, and he starts chanting, “Oh—pleasepleaseplease …oh!” 

Leaning back a little, you bring your hand down to your clit so you can swipe at it with your finger. You block out the fact that Papa III is jittering and squirming under you—you’re focusing on your own pleasure and trying cum.

At some point, your hand makes contact with the wand, and you pick it up—turning it on and pressing it into your lips, just above your clit. You let out a low moan even as he’s whining at this added sensation.

But you pay him no mind: either he’ll get off and you’ll have to punish him; or he’ll hold out and get an orgasm as a reward.

You’re mashing yourself into the vibrator as at the same time as squeezing your muscles around his cock—and you’re close …  _ so close _ . Your rocking hips speed up as you feel your blood pool and your pussy begin to pulsate. Panting, you give one more press of the vibe, and then you’re spasming—letting out throaty moans as you press and rock into him—and clenching around him.

Riding out the wave, you rock gently over him, ignoring the way he’s straining against his ties and mewling at you in distress to cum. Finished—satisfied—you lean forward and rip the headphones off.

“Cum, baby.”

Papa III lets out a deep, resonating moan as his hips thrust up sharply into you, then bounces shallowly as he rides out the wave of his climax. You lightly pet at his face, chest, and sides until he relaxes—and then you reach over to your phone to shut off the bluetooth.

“ _ Cara, cara, cara _ ,” he’s chanting—and you can’t tell if those are droplets of sweat or tears.

You gingerly climb off him, first undoing his ties—checking his wrists and ankles—then tearing off his facemask. Papa III rolls onto his side, glomming onto you even as he’s pressing his mouth to yours. You card your fingers through his hair until he buries his face into your neck, and then you tell him what a good boy he is over and over—until he settles and you can perform his gentle aftercare.

* * *

**Copia** : 

Humiliate 👏 this 👏 Rat 👏. Tease him, deny him, make him beg. He’s an adequate Dom, but he’d much rather you put him in his place. This is a man who needs a cock cage STAT. He’ll agree to any punishment you put forth for him. He may whine and plead—but those aren’t his safeword now, are they? He readily agrees to engage in domestic discipline, even knowing how hard your rules will be to keep.

You’d watched footage of him rubbing against his cane and surreptitiously palming his dick while he played “peek-a-boo” during his white-suite set. This was after you specifically told him he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

“So you want to touch that cock on stage, huh? Even knowing that cock is mine?” 

You’d already spanked him, now you’re maneuvering his cock inside his cock cage, locking it up tight. He’s begging you  _ please, no _ —but all you do is reattach the key to your charm bracelet.

“You want to wear those tight suits, Copia? Go ahead! Everyone will know you’re a bad boy being punished.”

Eyes cast down, he says, “I understand, Mistress.” His eyes flick back up, hopefully. “May I still pleasure you orally?”

You scoff, putting the toe of your stiletto on his forehead before pushing him away.

“No! Treats are only for good boys … and as we’ve already established, you are not a good boy right now. Today I will take my pleasure from someone who knows how to behave.”

Copia looks up at you plaintively.

“Don’t look at me like that, Rat Boy. You brought this on yourself. Now: go let in our special guest star.”

Still naked, ass red, and dick locked up, Copia scrambles up to open the door to your quarters. His face falls when he sees that Aether is standing outside.

“Sorry, boss,” The Cake says. He shoots a brief, sympathetic glance at the Cardinal—but then the Ghoul’s eyes land on you, and there’s hunger in them.

“Ghoul. Tonight you will be Copia’s proxy. You will eat me out to my satisfaction, and then you will leave.” Softly, you chuck him under the chin to meet your eyes. “Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he says, practically panting.

“Good Ghoul,” you purr before snapping your head to Copia. “Rat Boy! Go sit on the chair, and keep your posture straight. Every time I see you slouch, I’ll add a day to your confinement.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Copia squeaks as he hurries to obey.

“Ghoul, on the bed. Make yourself comfortable—I plan on enjoying myself on your tongue.”

Aether similarly hurries to follow orders, situating himself on his back with a few pillows to support his neck. You divest yourself of your panties, then knee onto the bed so you can straddle Aether’s neck.

“Put that forked tongue to good use, Ghoulie.” You caress the cool metal of his mask. “Make sure to use your tail.”

He gets to work immediately, his eyes closing as his tongue works and wiggles between your folds. You moan and writhe over him, letting out a moan when the spade of tale enters you once you’re slick enough.

“Oh!” you gasp as you grab onto his horns for leverage to ride his mouth. “Such a good Ghoulie,” you say as you turn your head to face Copia. “He knows how to please me so well!” 

You make eye contact with The Cardinal; he’s still sitting up straight, his soft paunch spilling slightly over his cock—which is straining against the cage—and his fists are balled where they rest on top of his meaty thighs. Aether’s tail is thrusting in and out of you—his large hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place as he laps—and you’re moaning and cooing at the pleasure of his tongue on your clit all while giving Copia bedroom eyes.

Copia’s eyes are wide and baleful, especially when Aether does something particularly artful with his long tongue. You just laugh at him and ride Aether’s face harder.

“Oh yes, Ghoul! That’s it, right there! Don’t stop!”

Soon enough, you’re cumming and clenching hard around Aether’s tale—The Cake greedily lapping up every drop. When you’re finished to your satisfaction, you roll off Aether and luxuriate on the bed next to him for a moment. He’s purring loudly and chittering happily while he idly strokes your arm.

When you look over, you’re pleased at the thick bulge in Aether’s pants. You lift yourself up onto your elbows so you can see Copia: he’s stiff in the chair, eyes pleading and fixed on you. You roll off the bed—caressing Aether’s chin and praising him—and meander languidly over to The Cardinal.

You run your fingers through his hair, then caress down his cheek—he leans into your touch.

“Aww. Poor, poor Rat Boy. But I’ll tell you what—for being such a good boy and sitting up straight this whole time, you get a reward.”

Copia perks up.

“Ghoul,” you snap, and Aether sits to attention. “Would you like your dick sucked?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he nods emphatically.

Copia pouts.

“Suck his dick good, and I’ll take a day off of your punishment. Now, on your knees, Rat Boy.”

He gets up from the chair and kneels on the floor in front of Aether. With eager restraint, The Cake swings off the bed. He’s about to hand a pillow to Copia—but then he looks to you; you nod your head in permission, and he gives it to The Cardinal to put under his knees. Aether hastily gets out his thick cock, and Copia shuffles toward him—but you raise your hand.

“Wait.”

You rub your hand between your legs, then coat Aether’s dick—him groaning—with your slick. You lean down to whisper into Copia’s ear,

“Just a little taste of what you’re missing.”

Then you shove his head down onto Aether’s cock. Copia gags and sputters, but you hold him there as Aether moans in delight.

“Suck it good, Rat Boy,” you spit as you curl your fingers into his hair and pump his head up and down Aether’s cock. 

Copia scrabbles at Aether’s beefy thighs for leverage even as The Cake is rocking into his drooling mouth.

“That’s right, Ghoulie,” you say, “fuck his mouth good. You know our dear Cardinal likes to be used. Shove that nice Ghoul dick as far down as it’ll go. I want to hear him rasping like an 80-year-old, hard drinking chainsmoker tomorrow.

Copia just coughs and  _ glups _ and sputters as you and Aether work together to use his mouth as a living sex toy. When you see that there’s a knot forming at the base of Aether’s cock, you lean over to stage whisper,

“Don’t knot his mouth—I”ll make it good for you.”

Aether just moans, his hands behind him on his lower back as he thrusts.

You keep up at pumping Copia’s head, shoving him down to the hilt until he taps insistently, all while Aether whines and pants.

“I’m … I’m gonna …”

“That’s it, baby. Cum in his mouth.” You lean down. “You swallow every single fucking drop. If I see  _ any _ dribbling at the corners of your mouth, that’s another day. In this Church we respect the offerings we’re given.”

Aether roars, just barely refraining from shoving his knot into Copia’s cavity. With one hand you hold Copia in place, with the other you reach down and squeeze  _ squeeze _ the pulsating protrusion on Aether’s dick. He makes a wounded noise and practically doubles over—continuing to twitch into Copia’s mouth as he cums. And cums …  _ and cums _ . Copia really doesn’t have the capacity to swallow so much all at once, and soon he’s coughing and gagging, the sticky fluid dripping out of the corners of his mouth and dripping off his chin onto his thighs to mix with the salvia already pooled there.

You stroke The Cake’s chest as he pants and heaves.

“So good, baby. So good. There you go, Ghoulie. Thank you. You may take your leave.”

Aether straightens, grins at you stupidly, then tucks his dick back into his pants—despite the still-prominent knot. By the time he’s left the room, you’re already squatting in front of Copia and wiping his mouth off with your panties.

He’s looking down at the floor in dismay.

“Aww,” you coo at him. “You did your best. Let’s just call it a wash, hmm? The 13 days stand as is—no more no less.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he breathes as he leans into you.

_ 13 Days Later … _

At midnight Copia gets to be free of his cock cage. He’s in your quarters, practically vibrating with anticipation. You instruct him to disrobe (he’s taken to wearing only his cassocks these past two weeks) and he does so with alacrity before lying down on the bed.

As soon as the clock ticks from 11:59 to 12:00, you’re detaching the key from your bracelet and unlocking his cage, carefully manipulating his ever-hardening cock out of it’s confines.

“Now, Rat Boy,” you say, “if you can do what I say, there’ll be no need for me to put you back in this.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he says as his mismatched gaze looks up at you adoringly.

You dribble lube over his cock, and his eyes close; you start to jack him with lazy strokes, and he shudders in pleasure.

“No cumming until I give you permission. Understand?”

“ _ Sí _ ,” he says, nodding vigorously.

You give a hard squeeze and he yelps.

“Yes,  _ what _ ?”

“ _ Yes, Mistress _ ,” he wheezes.

“Good, Rat Boy.”

You stroke him slow at first, watching the way he twitches and his muscles tense and release; you watch as his breaths grow shallow and his body locks—

—and then take your hand away.

Copia whines pathetically. “Mistress,  _ please _ .”

“Who controls your orgasm?”

He turns woeful eyes to you. “You do.”

“That’s right.” You give a slight slap to his dick, and his gasps. “So no whining!”

You continue like that—jacking him hard, then stopping before he has the opportunity to cum. He’s begging you, he’s  _ pleading _ , for you to let him cum, he just wants to come, oh please, Mistress,  _ please _ …

“Oh—you want to cum do you?”

He nods his head.

“You think I should let you cum?”

He nods again, more vigorously.

“Hmm,” you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Ok. I’ll let you cum.”

Copia gasps as you start jacking him harder, faster—he’s trying not to thrash about even as his orgasm hurtles toward him faster and faster. He’s almost arching off the bed as you feel his dick harden, and then—

—you let go.

His eyes snap open in horror even as his dick stiffens, then starts twitching, cum spurting out in pulses as he grunts softly.

You laugh.

“Aww,” you coo. “Were you expecting something else?”

He looks down at the puddle of cum pooling in his belly roll, then back up at you.

“N-No, Mistress,” he gulps. “T-Thank you for letting me cum.”

Copia is still hard, so you straddle his thighs and take his dick in hand before rubbing it through your slit.

“I’ll tell you what, ratling. I’ll let you orgasm if you can cum before I get off.

You start working yourself over his cock, spending extra time stimulating your clit in the ridge of his cockhead. His hands fly up to grip at your thighs—rocking shallowly; his eyes meet yours, looking for any sign of displeasure. After that, you stop paying attention to him—wholly focused on your pleasure and race to climax.

You’re mashing and jerking into him—your stuttering and  _ Ahs _ your best tells—when you feel Copia speed up under you and hear him start whimpering in distress. 

It’s all to no avail! You lock up momentarily before rocking down into him as you twitch and jolt over his cock to massage your clit through your throbbing climax. Copia has not cum even after you still, his blunt nails digging hard into your skin.

He’s looking up at you, distressed, but you only trail a finger down the tear track on his cheek—another  _ Aww _ escaping you. His dick throbs under you.

“I did give you a chance, Rat Boy.” You climb off him.

“No—wait! Mistress,  _ please _ !” His hands reach for you.

You look down at him—eyebrow arched and gaze assessing.

“Fine. I’ll give you a choice. I can let you  _ cum _ again now—or if you can wait …  _ hmm _ … 3 days, I’ll force your orgasm.” You hold up a finger. “If you chose the former I can’t guarantee when I’ll let you orgasm next.”

The whites of Copia’s eyes are showing as he blinks rapidly. He looks down at his flushed dick and then back up at you. You can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears.

“I-I’ll wait.”

You smirk at him.

“Ok, my good boy. But let’s keep you honest, mmm?”

His brows furrow until you produce the cock cage again.

“W-wait …I—”

“Aww, I’m sorry,” you say smugly as you put a finger to his lips. “That decision was final.”

And then you go about manipulating his cock back into the cage.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is lots of aftercare.


End file.
